


War Memorial

by crossingwinter



Series: Somewhat canonical [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s a transfigured muggle war memorial in the graveyard.  It changes into them when we see it.”</p><p>It was that, more than anything, that made her cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Memorial

She hadn’t cried when she had heard, and she didn’t cry now that it lay before her.

She didn’t know why she had come here. 

It wasn’t as though she wanted to mourn (although she did feel sad, somewhere in her throat.)

She shouldn’t have come.

Because looking out over this strange wreck, she could hear her sister’s welcoming cry of “Tuney!” and the bright smile that appeared when she playfully threw cookie dough at her older sister. 

Because seeing this collapsed house, there was no way that it couldn’t be real.  No way that the screaming baby was actually some strange boy—not at all related to those bright green eyes and the always cheerful demeanor—as a not very small part of her wished he were. 

She didn’t cry now.  She couldn’t cry, because she had shed far too many tears over this girl when she had been alive: this girl who had taken her dreams of going to a special school for freaks, who had stolen every ounce of her parents’ love and affection. 

“Hello.”  She had not heard the old woman, who was now standing at her side.  She was so stooped that she was easily a foot and a half shorter than Petunia Dursley (although indeed, Mrs. Dursley was wearing high heels).

“Hello.”  She responded quietly.

“You’re not the first to come, you know.”  Said the old woman knowingly.  “As if they are hoping to see little Harry Potter lying in the wreckage.”

Petunia nodded.  She didn’t know what to say to that.  When she got home, she would see little Harry Potter. 

“Have you seen the statue?”  asked the old woman.

“No.”  Petunia vaguely wondered what statue she was talking about, but didn’t say anything.  She could hear the distant sound of a violin.  How many years had it been since she had heard Lily play?  Had she stopped when she went off to…?

“It’s a transfigured muggle war memorial in the graveyard.  It changes into them when we see it.”

It was that, more than anything, that made her cry. 

“I can’t see it.” She murmured sadly.  She would have wanted to.  It was not often that she would have wanted to see something that related to her sister, but this…maybe she was sadder than she thought.  She almost wasn’t sure why she should be. 

“Why not?” asked the old woman.

“I’m…” she searched her memory, for the word that horrible boy had used that first day.  What was it?  It had sounded like nonsense.  “a muggle.”

The old woman looked confused.  “Then what are you doing here?” she asked, almost harshly. 

She always pretended she didn’t have a sister.  Now she didn’t have one anymore.  And she wanted this woman to know…to realize that she didn’t deserve this.  The harsh tone, the ruined house, the little boy who should be playing with his parents, and not…

“She was my sister,” she said quietly.

The old woman’s defensive glance melted.  She reached out and rubbed Petunia’s back. 

They stood there in silence for a few more minutes as silent tears stole down Petunia’s face.

Half an hour later, when Petunia climbed into her car, which she had parked at the graveyard (she had looked for the grave before the house), she looked at the war memorial.

It flickered because her eyes were filled with tears, but remained firmly a war memorial.


End file.
